Nowhere to Go
by Emery Saks
Summary: When a snowstorm hits River City, Harold and Marian find themselves stranded at the library. Marian frets that tongues will wag, but Harold eagerly welcomes the chance for a little innocent canoodling – until it turns into something more.
1. An Unorthodox Sleeping Arrangment

If someone had told Harold Hill that a mere six months after arriving in River City, he'd be contentedly ensconced on a library bench reading Charles Dickens while his librarian-wife tended to her duties, he'd have laughed and recommended the fortune teller go hawk his yarns elsewhere.

But here it was, a cold January evening in River City, and Professor Harold Hill was doing exactly that. He and Marian had returned from their honeymoon in Des Moines only two weeks earlier, and Harold, reluctant to be separated from his new bride, had made it a point to drop by the library at some point every day to say hello to his sweet wife and steal a kiss or two if circumstances permitted.

However, after the onset of an early snowfall that morning, Harold decided it might be best if he arrived at the library earlier than usual. Marian seemed surprised to see him when he appeared at her desk around two p.m. and chuckled at her husband's explanation for his early appearance.

"Darling, this is quite normal for this time of year."

Harold merely shrugged and planted an affectionate kiss on her forehead. "It's my first Iowa winter, Mrs. Hill. Next year, when I'm a seasoned Iowan, I'll bring a sled."

"Honestly, Harold," she laughed, rolling her eyes.

Giving her a cheeky grin, he winked and proceeded to situate himself on the nearby bench, taking a copy of Charles Dickens' _A Christmas Carol_ with him. Marian would join him later. She always did. Although they were only recently husband and wife, they had established this routine shortly after his proposal and both had found it to be quite satisfying. He read while she tended to library business. The quiet intervals simply spent in each other's company were some of Harold's favorite moments, and he found himself eagerly looking forward to a lifetime filled with similar evenings.

XXX

The lights flickered intermittently as Harold quietly read his book. Marian sat beside him, fastidiously scribbling away in her book ledger, ensuring everything was as it should be. Every now and then, the music professor would pause and glance at his wife, waiting until her eyes lifted to meet his, before giving her an impish smile. Once the familiar blush colored her cheeks and she lowered her eyes in mild embarrassment, he would chuckle and return to his book, supremely satisfied by their little game.

As the afternoon progressed, they were interrupted by one brave patron who stopped by to check out an armload of books. But after that brief disruption, the solitude returned, and the library remained empty.

Harold had just finished reliving Scrooge's boyhood Christmas when Marian laid aside her pencil and shut her ledger.

"My goodness," she exhaled. "That certainly took longer than expected. I shall have to remember to teach Zaneeta the ins and outs of record keeping."

Harold smiled and closed his own book. "Her entries leave something to be desired?"

"She did an admirable job," Marian quickly replied, "but there are certain tricks that make it easier to track the comings and goings of volumes. I didn't realize I'd been so remiss in her training."

Harold chuckled and wrapped an arm around his wife's waist. "Don't be so hard on yourself, my dear. You had an awful lot on your plate what with the wedding and moving from one home to another."

Marian nodded in agreement, and Harold was grateful to see the slight self-recrimination that had settled in her eyes slip away. She glanced around at the empty library and smiled.

"I'm certainly grateful for the lull in patrons. The library seems to have accumulated several stacks of books while we were away. I've yet to manage to re-shelve all of them!"

Harold was amused by this revelation and regarded her with curiosity. "Darling, we've been back for almost three weeks. How can they still be unattended?"

A bright blush suffused Marian's cheeks and she started to turn away, but Harold caught her arm and gazed inquiringly at her.

"Harold," Marian murmured in admonition, but he continued to watch her with avid eyes, and so she was forced to reply. But she didn't meet his gaze as she softly responded, "I haven't been staying as late as I normally did before we were married."

It took Harold a moment to work out what she was saying, but when he did, a beaming smile bloomed across his face as what Marian _hadn't_ said sank in. During the first week of their return from Des Moines, Marian had returned home near seven o'clock every evening for the first three nights. Harold, eager to spend time with his wife, had expressed his frustration that she was working such late hours, but his wife pointed out that as the town librarian, the late hours were necessary in order to set the library back to rights after her extended absence. Although Zaneeta had done an admirable job in her absence, there were still many small things that needed attending and her expert eye.

While Harold understood this, it didn't lessen his desire for Marian's earlier arrival. He had spent nearly six months dreaming of Marian in his bed, and once he'd had the opportunity to finally demonstrate the true extent of his love for her, he discovered that even he hadn't been prepared for the onslaught of emotions being with her produced. It was more than just the carnal, although he would be the first to admit that he greatly enjoyed that aspect of their marriage. But there was more to it than that. Harold's heart began to race as he recalled their honeymoon and the trust that shone in her eyes each time they made love, and the words of love that fell from her lips as he moved within her. It was the way she gave herself so freely to him that made him want her more. And when they were spent, huddling close to one another, her hand trailing along his arm, they would talk in hushed voices, content to remain in each other's embrace as long as they could until they finally drifted off to sleep.

After an entire week of learning his wife's lithe body and listening to her passionate cries, Harold had found himself suddenly impatient when Marian began staying late. Although she happily and eagerly made love to him when they retired in the evenings, he missed the spontaneity and surprise that had colored their honeymoon.

So on the third evening of her late arrival, he met at the door and before she could even utter so much as a hello, he swept her up in his arms and carried her upstairs to their bedroom. Marian had been shocked by the abrupt welcome, but her amazement quickly melted away as her clothes drifted to the floor, and moments later, she was beneath him, moaning in pleasure as Harold fervently made love to her. When they had finished, Marian expressed her surprise at his enthusiastic greeting. Harold chuckled and informed her that although being a conman had taught him the art of patience, she had an uncanny knack of bringing out his impatient streak. He thought his wife might melt from embarrassment when he revealed he'd been dreaming of their lovemaking every afternoon and would happily make love to her every evening when she breezed their doorway, if he could. But instead of admonishing him, Marian merely gave him a coy smile and said nothing; however, the next evening – much to Harold's delight – she promptly arrived home 20 minutes after the library closed at 5 p.m., and her return was as dependable as clockwork every night after that.

A carnal man by nature, Harold heartily welcomed this change in Marian's schedule, but he hadn't stopped to consider the effect it might have on her duties at the library. Although he would sorely miss their early evening lovemaking, the music professor made a mental note to mention to Marian that he would be staying late one or two nights a week at the Emporium. Hopefully, that would allow his wife the time she needed to tidy up her domain.

Normally Harold would've suggested they stay a bit later tonight so he could help her with her tasks, but the constant snowfall and heavy, gray clouds that had loomed all afternoon made him think such ideas were better left to clearer days. As if to confirm this thought, the howling winds began to shriek outside the library windows. Unaccustomed to such furious weather, Harold looked toward the doors in concern.

"Sounds like Old Man Winter sure is sore about something."

Marian smiled and laid a comforting hand on his. "Darling, this is perfectly normal for this time of year."

Harold didn't look convinced. "Maybe for you," he muttered. He ignored Marian's gentle laughter and made his way to the double doors to get a better look at the commotion outside. When he pulled open one of the doors to take a peek, he was instantly buffeted by sheets of wind and snow. Flinching as the cold flecks pelted his eyes and nose and dusted the top of his head, Harold quickly pushed the door shut with a loud thud and turned to his wife, shaking his head as he wiped a hand along his damp face.

"With the way it's coming down out there, it doesn't look like we're going anywhere for a while."

Marian gave him a dubious glance, and Harold had the distinct feeling his wife thought perhaps her music professor was simply unaccustomed to an Iowa snowstorm. Her next words confirmed his suspicions.

"Honestly Harold, I don't think it's _that_ bad," she replied with a wry smile, and made her way from the table to the front entrance.

Harold raised his eyebrows in surprise at her dismissal of his assessment, but then chuckled and waved an arm toward the door. "Be my guest, Madam Librarian, and see for yourself."

Marian had no sooner opened the door than she was immediately pushed back by the strong winds and biting snow that rushed through the open doorway. Harold moved to assist her, but with a strength that belied her small frame, the librarian managed to shut the doors before he could even take a step. When she turned to face him, her face was pale and her eyes wide, devoid of their earlier amusement.

"Oh my," she murmured in genuine concern. "We wouldn't make it ten steps in that storm." She looked at him and chewed on her lower lip, concern seeping into her expression. "Harold, what are we going to do? It'd be ludicrous to try to make it home."

Harold shrugged and gave her a boyish smile. "It looks like we're stranded here, my dear little librarian." He hoped his teasing demeanor would put his wife at ease, but as soon as she heard his solution, her face drained of color and she raised a hand to cover her mouth.

Concerned, Harold stepped closer to her and took her hand in his. "Darling, what's wrong? I realize being stranded isn't the ideal solution, but it's only for the night. Tomorrow morning, the storm will have died away, and we can return home."

"Harold, what will people think? The two of us, spending the night together. Here! It's indecent!"

"Say now, there's nothing indecent about a husband and wife seeking amenable shelter when they're stranded," Harold countered, bringing Marian's hand to his mouth and placing a reassuring kiss on it.

Marian frowned. "Unfortunately, people aren't as understanding as you. Besides, I daresay no one else is facing such a precarious situation."

"Probably not," Harold readily agreed. "But look on the bright side, my dear. Who will even know we're here?"

His comment was meant to allay some of Marian's fears, but it wasn't far from the truth. It was unfortunate that the heavy and unexpected snowfall was forcing them to spend the night in Madison Public Library, but Harold very much doubted if any of the townspeople realized they were even still there. After all, it had been unseasonably cold the previous days – even for River City – and as such, most of the townsfolk had chosen to stay inside and forgo the weather in favor of steaming cups of cider and the warmth of a crackling hearth.

Marian appeared to consider his statement, and Harold felt relief flutter through him as the tension in her shoulders slowly eased and a smile bloomed across her face.

"You're absolutely correct, Harold. I haven't seen a patron since Mrs. Phelps left three hours ago."

"See? Our secret is safe. Now, about bedding down for the night…" His eyes roamed the library in search of the best place to situate themselves for warmth and comfort. When his alighted on the radiator near the upstairs wall, he smiled. "That'll do." Turning back to Marian, he considered her thoughtfully for a moment. "A resourceful librarian such as yourself wouldn't happen to have any blankets around here, would she?"

Marian nodded and went to a nearby closet. "Of course I do. I keep them tucked away in here for just such an emergency. This isn't my first snowstorm," she smiled. "The winter after I first took over the library, we had a surprise snowfall in late November. I remember spending several chilly hours as I waited for a lull that would allow me to make it safely home." She opened the door and retrieved two blankets. "The next day I returned with these, and they've been here ever since!"

Harold gave her a winning smile. "Always two steps ahead!" He took them from her and nodded at their coats hanging on a nearby hook. "If you'll collect those and follow me, we'll see about settling in for the evening."

Marian held up a hand. "I need to lock up first. You go ahead, and I'll follow you as soon as the doors are secure and I've returned my ledger to the desk."

Nodding his agreement, Harold gave his wife an affectionate look and headed up the large spiral staircase in the center of the room.

Harold turned when he heard the distinctive sound of Marian's shoes clinking against the metal stairway. He watched as she made her way to him, their coats draped over her arm. When her eyes landed on the radiator situated behind him, she smiled and shook her head in amusement.

"You never cease to amaze me, Harold."

He laughed and gestured behind him. "Well, it's not as good as a roaring fireplace, but it sure beats the cool floor down below."

"Indeed," Marian concurred. "But why is your suit jacket on the floor? You should be wearing it for warmth."

Harold frowned and retrieved their coats from his wife's arms. "Marian, if you think I'm going to let you lay on the floor without a pillow of sorts, you're sadly mistaken." She started to protest, but Harold waved away her concern and proceeded to arrange their coats into an impromptu mattress. Satisfied with the makeshift bedding, he lowered himself to the floor and patted the area next to him, encouraging his wife to join him.

When she had settled herself beside him, he leaned down and began unlacing his shoes. He gave Marian a boyish grin and wiggled his toes as his shoes came free. "I've always wanted to do that in here."

Marian laughed. "Why does that not surprise me, Professor Hill?" She reached out to unhook her boots, but stopped when Harold's hands settled atop hers. When she looked up at him, he watched her with a seriousness that had not been present only moments before.

"Allow me, Mrs. Hill," he murmured softly. Her humor suddenly absent, Marian merely nodded, her eyes trained on his until he looked away.

Harold's touch was gentle as he slowly undid each of the hooks that ran along the length of Marian's boots. He had first enjoyed the seductive experience of undressing his wife during their honeymoon, and although he knew she was quite capable of performing the task without his help, there was something wholly intimate about helping her undress. Even though they wouldn't be able to see their usual ritual through to fruition tonight, Harold was adamant that they at least be able to experience it in some part. As he slowly worked each boot off, he allowed his hands to slip beneath the hem of Marian's gown and caress her legs through the stockings she wore. He knew Marian enjoyed this, because she gave a little sigh as his hands traveled along the material. Harold only wished they could indulge in the rest of their usual routine. But realizing the need to practice restraint, he regretfully removed his hands and gave his wife an indulgent smile.

"Tomorrow night," he promised.

Marian nodded in understanding and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. When she pulled away, she cast a dubious glance at the coats beneath them and looked back at him, but he waggled a finger and cut her off before she could begin. "It's not up for debate, my dear little librarian. Besides," he murmured with a sly grin, "I'm sure I'll be plenty warm with you next to me. "

Although this had been intended to elicit a good-natured smack from his wife, Marian said nothing and instead cast a nervous glance to the doors down below. Harold quickly realized she was thinking about the unorthodox sleeping arrangements in which they had found themselves tonight. He mentally scolded himself for his blunder. He tried to think of something to say, but before he could, Marian lay down next to him and pulled the blanket tightly to her. Harold winced. He'd missed his chance. With a resigned sigh, the music professor followed his wife's example, his own head coming to rest against the hard floor as he contemplated their situation.

Although Harold knew there was nothing scandalous about them staying overnight in the library, he understood Marian's nervousness. They _were_ married now, but people always talked. Even marriage didn't always change that. And Marian had always been sensitive to the townspeople's idle gossip. He couldn't blame her. But unfortunately, because of her history, she was hesitant to even embrace him, instead choosing to lay by his side; however, she must have realized there was not much warmth in that, because a few minutes later, she turned her back to him and allowed him to move behind her. Grateful that he was at least able to spoon with his wife, Harold slipped an arm over her waist to pull her closer to him for warmth, but also because he simply wanted to be close to his wife. As he did this, he felt Marian began tremble and heard her sharp intake of breath when his hand splayed across her stomach.

"Darling, we _are_ married," he softly whispered, trying to reassure her. Harold knew his proper wife still carried old insecurities stemming from the days when she was viewed as a pariah. Although he couldn't change what had happened in the past, he was adamant that his wife would never be subjected to that stigma again. But here, in the library, alone together, he knew they truly had privacy and hoped she realized that there were no prying eyes to cast aspersions.

"I know," came her quiet reply. But Harold could still feel the tension humming through her as his chin rested against hair. Shifting, he lowered his head so he could rest his lips against the smooth skin of Marian's neck. His hand began to trace languid circles across her stomach, his fingers caressing her through the cotton fabric.

"Marian, what's wrong?"

Marian merely shook her head.

"Tell me," Harold murmured. He pressed open kisses along the line of her neck in gentle persuasion.

Marian released a soft sigh as her hand came up to cover Harold's. "I know you'll think me terribly silly, darling, but I can't help but think we're being awfully wicked. Doing this. Here. In the library. It seems… wrong."

Harold chuckled and tightened his grasp on her. "Oh my dear little librarian, we are far from wicked."

He was pleased to see a smile lift the corner of his wife's mouth. Lowering his lips, he proceeded to give her a few quick loves bites and was rewarded by her soft moans of approval. When he lifted his head, his eyes were gleaming with satisfaction.

"Naughty perhaps," he conceded, "but never wicked."

"Honestly, Harold," Marian laughed. "You're incorrigible." But the apprehension that had been present only moments before now dissipated with her giggles.

Harold was glad to see this. Truth be told, had they been stranded at his Emporium, he would have no compunction about making love to wife. But the library was Marian's domain, and even though she was now no longer a stranger to physical intimacy, he had a sneaking suspicion the library would always retain echoes of her maidenly virtue. Truth be told, he found the idea oddly comforting. He had fallen in love with Marian the maidenly librarian, and the gentle reminders of her tucked away within the library met him like old friends every time he entered. To make love to her here, even now though they were married, would seem like sullying those vestiges of innocence.

Of course, Marian had no way of knowing any of that. Before their marriage, Harold had never hesitated to squirrel away his fiancée to a dim corner of the library and steal a quick kiss when the opportunity afforded it. And toward the final weeks before their marriage, when the last patron had finally dwindled out, his stolen kisses had become somewhat lengthy.

But stealing kisses and making love were two entirely different things, Harold reflected as his hand resumed tracing circles across her stomach. Marian's blissful sighs delighted him, but as he continued to tease her, Harold realized he wanted to hear her throaty moans and his name whispered from her lovely lips. He wouldn't go too far, but surely they could indulge in a little canoodling before settling down for the evening. With that in mind, he trailed his hand higher. Marian turned her head to gaze at him questioningly, but her eyes soon slid shut when his palm closed over her breast, and he began to caress her in earnest. At first, Marian tensed up again, as if she was considering the idea of protesting his bold behavior. But then she seemed to think better of it and relaxed into his persuasive caresses, her hand rising to clutch at his arm. She moaned his name, slowly moving against him, her backside pressing into him as he continued his ministrations. Harold knew she felt his response to her movements, because a sly smile spread across her face and she continued to sigh in delight, ardently whispering for him to continue.

Elated at Marian's willingness to allow him such liberties in her library, Harold lowered his mouth to her ear and gently toyed with it, his tongue tracing the outline, his lips closing around her lobe and softly tugging on it in the way he knew drove her wild.

Marian didn't disappoint him. Her sighs turned into full-fledged moans and a moment later, she turned in his arms and captured his mouth in a heated kiss, parting her lips beneath his. Harold was taken aback by his wife's sudden change in demeanor, but never a man to pass up such an opportunity, he quickly recovered and returned her ardent embrace. As his tongue explored the familiar contours of her mouth, he resumed his blatant caress and traced the outline of her breasts through the soft fabric of her gown. Marian pressed against him again, and Harold moaned into their kiss. Impatient to feel Marian closer to him, Harold insistently pressed his thigh against her legs until they parted and granted him access. His other hand cupped her backside and pulled her to him so that she rested flush against his erection. He heard her sharp intake of breath when their bodies came in contact, but then Marian was kissing him again, her fingers feverishly trailing through his hair.

They remained that way for several minutes, Harold leisurely exploring his wife's mouth as his hand continued to tease her curves and his hips eagerly moved with hers, expertly mimicking the lovemaking they'd quickly become accustomed to during their few short weeks of marriage. When they finally parted to catch their breath, Harold grinned at his wife and was delighted to see her smiling broadly at him in return.

"Never wicked?" she challenged. Desire still shown in her eyes, but there was a trace of mischief dancing behind it.

A grin split Harold's face. Marian was certainly in a playful mood tonight.

"That wasn't wicked, my dear little librarian," he informed her with a saucy grin and lowered his head to her breast. He glanced at his wife, who was now gazing at him with genuine curiosity. "But this is," he murmured before nuzzling the fabric of her dress, his mouth opening and closing around the soft curve of her breast. When he added his tongue to the caress, Marian's breathing sharpened, and her hands instantly returned to his head, raking through his hair before they found the short fringe at the back his neck. That area having always been a particular weak spot for him – something Marian had quickly discovered during their courtship – Harold shuddered and moaned against her before increasing the intensity of his kisses. He could've sworn he heard Marian give a low chuckle, but before he could contemplate it further, his wife took the lead and pulled his mouth to hers for a passionate kiss. As they resumed their earlier explorations, Harold felt Marian's hand slip between them and lightly brush against the firmness in his trousers. At first, he wasn't certain whether the contact was intentional or not, but when her hand moved across him again, he broke their kiss and moaned in approval.

"Marian," he groaned in a ragged voice, slowly thrusting against her hand. He could feel her fingers through the fabric as they lightly trailed along his erection. It was heavenly – her hesitant touch toying with him. But when her hand closed around him and began to caress him in earnest, a strangled gasp escaped the befuddled music professor. Suddenly, Harold didn't care whether they were in Madison Public Library or not. Although he was a changed man, it still went firmly against his principles for such a generous gesture to remain unreciprocated.

Sliding his own fingers beneath the hem of her gown, which had settled atop his thigh, Harold's hand glided along the fabric until he was cupping her through her drawers. He could feel the unmistakable heat and dampness of her arousal through the fabric, and Harold smiled in smug satisfaction. It was obvious, that despite her earlier protests, Marian was finding enjoyment in their evening activities, and Harold was eager to give her even more. Moving his palm, he began to slowly tease her, lightly stroking her through the fabric, feeling her press down against him in response to his caress. Her delighted moans mingled with his steady groaning, and soon they were both panting, eyes steadily fixed upon each other as they explored one another while the storm howled outside.

As his wife maddeningly stroked him, Harold reflected he was both shocked and delighted at Marian's apparent willingness to contribute to such a heated moment. For all of his wife's Victorian sensibilities, she was certainly keeping pace with him tonight, and he absently wondered just how many liberties his lovely little librarian would allow. Before tonight, Harold thought he could never be so crass as to make love to his wife in her library – some things simply weren't done. But now that they were completely alone and unencumbered by the possibility of being interrupted or discovered, he found himself recalling the fantasy that had helped him find satisfaction many a night during his early stay in River City.

As Harold seriously considered the possibility of turning his imaginings into reality, Marian released a low moan and closed her eyes, her head tilting back, even while she increased the tempo of her caresses. Harold was desperately aroused by the sight of Marian so caught up in sensual pleasure. As his wife slowly made the transformation from maiden to woman, he had watched – with utter delight – as she discovered her own passionate nature. The final weeks leading up to their marriage had been full of shocking revelations – for both of them – and the realization that best intentions weren't always enough to halt passionate moments had led them to decide to move their wedding date up a month. Two months ago, Harold's restraint had been sorely tested – making him realize just how much he needed to make love to Marian Paroo as soon as he could arrange it. After five months of courting his maiden librarian, he didn't think he would last much longer. But now tonight, as she lay next to him, writhing in his arms, he suddenly realized his own passions could wait, even though he'd continued to want her even more after their wedding. If he wasn't able to find release tonight, so be it; however, he was adamant that Marian would.

With that thought in mind, Harold eagerly worked his hand through the opening of her drawers – once again grateful to whoever had the foresight to design them with such easy access. His fingers instantly found her silky wetness, and he began to tease Marian with feather-light touches along her softness, his efforts rewarded by his wife's breathy gasps. Her hand, which had been slowly caressing him, halted in its movement, but remained firmly closed around his erection – a fact for which Harold was immensely grateful.

After several teasing caresses, Harold finally slipped a finger inside Marian, followed by another and began to pleasure his wife in earnest with his skillful ministrations. He watched with satisfaction when Marian's head fell back and she released a long, wordless moan. Her hands reached up to clutch at his arm, and Harold marveled at the sheer eroticism of watching Marian in the throes of passion. It had taken his breath away the first time they made love, and he still found it just as amazing as he did that night in Des Moines.

Not for the first time, Harold wondered how he could have ever found the casual relationships of his past fulfilling. Before Marian, he had prided himself on his bedroom prowess, but ensuring his lover's long-term satisfaction had not been his primary focus. But as his love for Marian had blossomed, he'd discovered the unselfish joy of bringing her delight. And after their first tonight together as man and wife, when she had given herself so freely to him and loved him so honestly, he realized he had been missing out on so much.

Even now, Harold was still amazed at the sense of happiness that he found in giving his wife pleasure and securing her happiness. As his fingers continued to glide in and out of Marian's warm wetness and her cries became more vocal, Harold lowered his head to her breasts and resumed kissing her through the fabric, his teeth grazing the firmness there and eliciting an impassioned sob from Marian as she arched her back and pressed her hips against the palm of his hand. Harold heard his name fall from her lips over and over and then her hands were pulling him to her, her lips finding his in a kiss that left no question as to what she wanted from him.

His earlier admonitions fleeing from his mind, Harold groaned against her mouth and brought his free hand to his pants, fumbling with his belt buckle as he tried to work it free. Restraint be damned. Marian was practically offering herself to him, and Harold was never a man to say no to such an opportunity.

He felt Marian's hands brush against his, and then she was unbuckling his belt for him and unbuttoning his trousers. Her hand had just slipped inside the waistband and closed around him when the loud howling of the wind outside picked up and the nearby radiator began to loudly clank. Startled, Harold halted his caresses and lifted his head as Marian bolted up, one hand fluttering to her mouth in surprise. She was breathing heavily – as was he. They gazed at each for a long moment, the silence punctuated by the wind buffeting the windows and their shuddery breaths.

As their breathing slowly returned to normal, Harold realized the moment had been shattered. Although a part of him greatly regretted the interruption, the rational side of him realized he'd been given the opportunity to stop before he lost control and ravished his wife on her library floor – something he finally realized he did not want to do.

A twitch from below his open trousers protested this line of reasoning, but Harold merely scowled and chastised his wayward inclinations; however, when he turned back to gaze at Marian, who lay below him, her gown bunched around her waist and damp patches along the fabric covering her breasts, he almost lost his resolve. He could easily make love to his wife and no one would ever be the wiser. And perhaps she wouldn't regret it, after all.

His body reacted strongly once again, and he heard Marian's gasp as she felt him respond to such thoughts. His gaze met hers, and he was struck by the desire in her eyes. She wanted him. Harold was sure of it. He could resume their lovemaking in earnest right now, and she would welcome it. But the embarrassment that was slowly beginning to creep in behind her desire in her expression made his decision for him. Marian would welcome it now, but later, she would be filled with regret, and Harold did not want his wife to ever view their lovemaking with regret.

Giving Marian a loving smile, Harold bent his head to nip at her neck with tender restraint, while indulging in one final caress before reluctantly withdrawing his hand and restoring Marian's gown to its rightful place. A rueful smile crossed his face at Marian's sigh of disappointment, and he leaned up to indulge in a lengthy kiss that was probably more passionate than it should have been considering the dangerous ground they were treading. But Harold couldn't help himself. If he couldn't be with Marian tonight, he was certainly going to communicate his remorse to her about it.

When they eventually parted, Marian watched him as he rose to his feet and hastily secured the fastening of his trousers. He took a step forward, and then stopped, suddenly finding himself at a loss for words as to how to proceed. In the past, when he'd needed to wash up after a romantic rendezvous, he'd merely silently excused himself from the woman in question. Experienced lovers needed no explanation and innocent young misses were often in a romantic stupor having just discovered the true extent of sexual passion.

But this was Marian. His wife. Harold certainly owed her an explanation as to his sudden departure. But how did one do that without resorting to crassness, he wondered. Finally settling on the truth – sometimes still a novel concept for him – Harold smiled at his wife and nodded his head toward the restroom downstairs.

"I, ah, need to go … wash up," he explained, feeling an uncharacteristic blush creeping across the back of his neck. Marian, who was already blushing a furious shade of red, said nothing, but merely nodded.

Grateful for his wife's understanding, Harold made his way down the spiral staircase, all the while arguing with himself as to why it would be unwise to return to his blushing bride and finish what they'd started.

XXX

When Harold finally returned, he found Marian curled on her side, eyes closed. But her quickened breathing betrayed her. She was not yet asleep, although she apparently wanted him to think so. Wordlessly, he resumed his place behind her and slipped a gentle arm around his wife's waist. She didn't stiffen at his embrace, but Harold easily discerned the thread of tension coursing through her. Knowing his darling librarian had allowed him more liberties than she had initially planned, Harold wanted nothing more than to assure her of his honorable intentions. So leaning in, he placed a tender kiss behind her ear and snuggled closer, cradling her body with his.

"Oh, my dear little librarian," he whispered. "You are the most captivating woman I've ever known." His fingers trailed along her waist, tenderly caressing her, as he continued to speak. "You make me forget where I am, at times."

A faint blush spread across the back of her neck, and Harold smiled before running his lips along her smooth skin and bringing his hand to rest on her stomach. "I love you, Marian Paroo Hill."

Marian brought her hand up to cover his. "I love you, too, Harold," she murmured somewhat shyly.

Confident his librarian was sure of his honorable intentions once more, Harold briefly considered mentioning their passionate moment simply to see her lovely blush, but then reconsidered. There would be plenty of opportunities to resume that particular conversation once they returned home, and he assured himself he would. For now, that was enough. Content to let their heated tryst remain unspoken for the time being, Harold closed his own eyes, allowing sleep to slowly claim him.


	2. Stumbling in a Winter Wonderland

It took Marian a moment to realize where she was when she awoke early the next morning. The familiar fragrances of lavender and sandalwood, which often wafted through the upstairs of the Hill home, were noticeably absent. Inhaling deeply, she was greeted with the unmistakable smell of leather and paper tinged with a hint of lavender – a unique combination that was distinctly Madison Public Library. Marian's eyes opening with a start, she glanced around trying to ascertain why she would be on her library floor, but then she remembered. A snowstorm.

She and Harold had been stranded here. Reminded of her husband, she glanced down at the familiar arm draped across her and instantly repressed an amused laugh. Harold's hand, which had curled possessively around her waist as they fell asleep last night, now firmly rested on her breast. She sighed. Her husband was nothing if not predictable, and his predilection for that particular portion of her anatomy was a constant source of mild embarrassment mixed with an odd sense of feminine pride for her. But embarrassed though she may be, the librarian made no efforts to remove her husband's hand from its comfortable resting spot.

Marian shifted and groaned as her back, accustomed to lying on the soft and comfortable mattress of their bed, protested after a night spent on the hard floor of the library. She wondered if she could convince Harold to work the kinks out for her when they returned home and then amended that thought to _if_ they returned home. The storm that had howled so ferociously the night before seemed to have passed, but that didn't mean its effects would be navigable.

However, sunlight was slowly creeping through the upper windows, so perhaps it wouldn't be as bad as she feared. With that thought in mind, the librarian decided it best to wake her slumbering husband and see about departing the library before the rest of River City discovered their unorthodox accommodations. Although Harold had seemed unfazed by the potential gossip that could result from their predicament, Marian wasn't as comfortable with the ideas of tongue wagging. She had only recently begun to feel comfortable with the acceptance and friendship she'd received from those who'd once shunned her, and although the librarian knew the ladies no longer maliciously engaged in gossip concerning her, she certainly wasn't going to give them any fodder for any well-meaning gossip, either!

Gently removing his hand from its resting place, Marian turned in her husband's arms and smiled when she saw his sleeping face. He had propped a hand beneath one cheek and his brown curls, so meticulously combed and styled, spilled haphazardly over his forehead, giving him a decidedly boyish look, despite his 42 years. Marian felt a familiar and welcome warmth seep through her. Even after three weeks of waking up next to Harold, she couldn't contain the glee that raced through her when she witnessed unguarded moments such as these. Always in the midst of some grand scheme, her bombastic and boisterous music professor usually sported a wide grin or mischievous smile throughout the day and an amorous one when he swept in her arms to bring her to their room at night. But rarely did her husband possess such a look of calm serenity. The librarian found it oddly endearing, and she counted the moments when she was allowed to witness it as quite special, indeed.

Marian felt a wistful pang of guilt at the idea of interrupting Harold's sleep – he looked so peaceful and content – but they really needed to get going if they hoped to avoid any unwanted questions. Hoping to soften her disturbance, she raised her lips to his and wakened him with gentle kisses. Harold's mouth moved against hers, slowly at first, but then with more passion as he awoke. When Marian finally pulled away, his eyes remained closed, but a silly smile lifted the edges of his mouth.

"If that's the way you plan on waking me in the morning, I vote we sleep in the library every night." His hand stole around her waist and immediately moved lower to caress her backside through her skirt.

"Honestly, Harold!" Marian admonished with a good-natured swat to his arm.

Harold opened his eyes and grinned at her. "You started this, Madam Librarian. I'm merely contributing."

"Yes, I can see that." Marian smiled back at him, despite herself. "However, I think it's best if we collect our things and hurry home." She gently reached down and arrested the motions of his hand, which was now meandering lazily down the curve of her thigh. "Who knows who'll see us if we stay here much longer."

"Ah yes, we mustn't contribute to the River City party line," her husband teased, but nonetheless moved away and rose to his, stretching his arms above his head.

Marian opened her mouth to protest her husband's flippant comment, but she was stopped short when Harold reached down and brought her to stand with him. He gazed thoughtfully at her. "Darling, I realize your concern and even if I don't share it, I do understand it. So," he continued, bringing a hand to her disheveled hair, "what say you let me help you arrange this into something a bit more presentable and we'll head that way?"

Somewhat mollified, Marian simply nodded and turned to allow Harold to gather her hair and gently rework it until it somewhat resembled her usual chignon. She felt his hands drift to her shoulders when he was done and then his lips were on her neck, pressing soft kisses against her smooth skin. Marian almost moaned when she felt Harold's tongue gently trace along her neckline.

After their heated encounter last night, Marian had gone to sleep and had the most delicious dreams involving her husband and the continuation of their library explorations. At one point in the night, she had woken to realize she was unceremoniously moving against him and he was pressing back. Initially, she'd been too embarrassed to ask whether Harold was awake or not, but judging from the firmness that pressed back against her and the heightened breathing that filled her ear, she ascertained he most certainly was; however, she refrained from saying anything aloud lest he stop. They went on that way for several minutes until she heard Harold utter a frustrated groan and felt his arm slip around her waist to pull her closer to him. His arousal was unmistakable and for a moment, she wondered if he would finish what they had started earlier. But to her relief – and also disappointment – he didn't. Instead, his lips found their way to her ear and when she heard him softly whisper her name in a hoarse voice, she finally released the moan she'd been holding back.

Harold's voice floated to her, whispering soft endearments of love as his lips traced the curve of her ear. When he finally pulled away, she heard him sigh regretfully before informing her, "We will finish this later, Madam Librarian. I can promise you that."

Marian felt him settle down behind her and in a few minutes, his breathing was steady once more; however, the librarian lay awake for another hour, ruminating over the heated events of their evening before sleep finally claimed her.

Now, as he made love to her neck, Marian wondered if he planned making good on that promise here and now. Although a part of her was scandalized to consider such a thing, a larger part of her desperately hoped he would. But it seemed that, for once, Harold was to be the one to observe propriety, because a moment later, his lips left her warm skin and he stepped away, leaning down to gather their blankets in his arms.

"You are undeniably tempting, my dear," he informed her with a rueful smile. "However, I think you're probably right. We'd best get home while we can."

Desperately trying to calm her racing thoughts, Marian merely nodded and watched as Harold made his way down the staircase, saying nothing when her husband haphazardly folded the blankets and placed them on the wrong shelf in the closet.

Harold looked up to where she stood and smiled. "Darling, I'm going to poke my head out the door and make sure the coast is clear. Why don't you grab our coats and head on down here."

Marian managed what she hoped was a confident smile and nodded her agreement. When she saw Harold's head disappear outside the entrance doors, she took a deep breath and tried to collect her scattered thoughts.

Now that Harold was no longer in close proximity, she felt her sense of rationality returning and experienced a brief flicker of annoyance. Honestly, what had gotten in to her? Seriously contemplating making love to her husband here? In her library! Harold was obviously a poor influence on her in that regard. She was going to have a stern talking to with him when they returned home and remind him that it would behoove the both of them to exercise a bit more restraint when it came to their passion.

Once again in control of her wayward emotions, the librarian traversed the staircase and shut the closet door Harold had left slightly open. Then she followed her husband outside, firm in her resolve to be a model of decorum and propriety. Handing Harold his coat, Marian pulled her own tightly around her and buttoned it up – steadily ignoring her husband's cheeky smile – before turning away from him to secure the library doors; however, she had no sooner finished locking them when she heard Harold's footsteps behind her and felt his lips brush against her ear.

_So much for propriety,_ Marian thought crossly. The librarian was about to turn around and admonish the music professor for his bold behavior, but stopped short when she heard the genuine longing and desire in his tone.

"Do you remember what I promised you last night, Marian?" Harold questioned in a low voice.

"I remember," she whispered shakily, her cheeks instantly turning a bright shade of pink. She was alarmed to discover her earlier resolve rapidly dissolving as her husband's mouth began caressing the curve of her ear with familiarity and ease.

"I'm glad," he murmured and brought his hand to the small of her back to trace lazy circles. His voice softened and a note of genuine remorse entered his voice. "Darling, I'm sorry if I took too many liberties last night and embarrassed you. That wasn't my intention. It's just that it's hard enough to control myself and not touch you when others are around. But last night, it was only the two of us, in the darkened library, the wind howling outside and not a soul around… the perfect setting for making love…" He trailed off, and cleared his throat. "I don't know about you, Madam Librarian, but I'm awfully eager to return home so I can make good on that promise," he whispered, a seductive note entering his voice once more. His teeth sank into her earlobe and began to gently tug on it. "How about you, my dear little librarian? Are you eager to finish what we started?"

Marian's eyes fluttered shut as images from the night before flashed through her mind – Harold's heated kisses, his fingers skillfully caressing her, the feel of him throbbing in her hands – and a small moan escaped her. When Harold chuckled softly behind her, Marian flushed crimson, realizing her husband had easily discerned the answer to his question. Flustered by his seductive confidence and her own libidinous thoughts, the librarian turned and hastily headed toward the stairs, but Harold halted her movements with a gentle hand on her elbow. When she glanced at him in confusion, he grinned at her, looking awfully pleased with himself.

"What? No tug?" he inquired, referencing her usual routine of giving the library doors a final pull to ensure they were well and truly locked.

If it were possible to melt through the concrete, Marian was certain she would have. After almost seven years of managing Madison Public Library, her daily routine of closing the building was well established. Neatly stow the carts by the dumbwaiter. Place the ledger and pencil on the countertop next to the stamp and inkpad. Draw the blinds. Exit the library. Lock the doors. Give them one last tug to ensure they were secure.

And she had followed this routine – without fail – almost every day for the past seven years. Until now. Not for the first time, Marian wondered how one man could knock her so off balance. She could feel Harold's amused gaze on her, but she pointedly ignored and with a quick step forward, the librarian checked the doors and then turned back to him, unable to mask the embarrassment gleaming in her eyes. "This storm has left me out of sorts," she murmured by way of feeble explanation.

Harold graciously said nothing, but Marian felt his heated gaze on her as he offered her his arm and pointedly escorted them down Oak Street toward their home.

XXX

The couple said little as they navigated their way through the heavy drifts of snow that covered the street. Harold found it difficult enough to trudge through the thick powder – even with his sturdy shoes and long trousers. But Marian, clad in the layers of clothing and footwear that etiquette demanded a lady don, apparently found the simple of task of navigating to be more than she initially bargained – she kept stopping abruptly and dragging him to a halt while she steadied herself. After her third precarious lurch – only halted by Harold's steady hold on her arm – the music professor decided to step in and take charge of the situation.

"Marian, perhaps I could assist you?" he offered, reaching out with his other hand to steady her waist as she wobbled precariously.

The librarian waved away his hand and almost fell again.

"Marian Paroo Hill!" This time Harold's voice rang out in an authoritarian tone she'd only ever heard him use with his boys. She stopped and looked at him with wide, startled eyes.

Glad to see that he'd finally gotten his wife's attention, Harold moved closer and easily scooped her up in his arms, ignoring her astonished protests and heated threats to put her down "this instant!" Blithely ignoring his wife, he continued to make his way down Oak Street, traveling a bit slower than before, but still making better time than they had when Marian had vainly attempted to navigate through the snow.

After a few more minutes, the librarian finally surrendered to the inevitable and wrapped her arms around his neck for better support. Harold refrained from making any teasing comments; the look in his wife's eyes told him she was decidedly unhappy. Praying that everyone else had the good sense to remain inside – Marian would really let him have it if someone happened to spot them – Harold gave his wife an apologetic smile and tightened his hold on her.

It was only when they reached their front door that the music professor finally lowered his wife back to the ground and allowed her to walk unassisted. Ever the gentleman, he opened the door for her and waited until she had entered their home before following inside behind her. The house was cool, having had no fire roaring in it the night before and their clothes, wet and covered in snow, clung to their legs, making the cool air brushing against them rather uncomfortable.

Although Marian shivered in their hallway, she still said nothing to him. But when Harold gently unwound her woolen scarf from around her neck and removed her hat for her, her rigid posture relaxed somewhat. He helped her out of her coat and then divested himself of his own soggy apparel before hanging his hat on its usual peg by the front door.

When Harold turned back to look at Marian, he found her gazing hat him with pensive eyes, and he wondered exactly how one went about apologizing for carrying his wife in his arms through the center of town. And he knew, with a sinking feeling, that he could probably forget about trying to finish what they'd started at the library… at least for the next few hours.

"Marian," he began, unsure of what to say. "I realize you're probably upset with me, but I thought it best if I… that is… your shoes, they aren't made for –"

"Harold," Marian interrupted in a quiet voice. "Do you realize last night was the first night we didn't make love since we returned home from Des Moines?" Her cheeks darkened as she said this, but her eyes remained steadily focused on his.

Harold swallowed. He _had_ realized that, but after witnessing his wife's reticence upon his return from the washroom last night, he thought it best to leave that detail unmentioned. But, it sent pleasant little shivers down his spine to know he wasn't the only one who felt regret over their missed tryst. And it cheered him to see that perhaps he hadn't destroyed his chances for a long and delightful morning of lovemaking, after all.

"Oh my dear little librarian, of course I noticed." His hands reached for hers and tugged her close. When Marian stood mere inches from him, he lowered his head and placed a soft kiss behind her right ear before slowly trailing his lips along her neck. He paused when his mouth found the hollow of her throat and was rewarded for his actions with the delightful sound of Marian's eager sighs. When he raised his head, he was pleased to note his wife's half-closed eyes and dreamy smile.

Glancing down, he noticed their attire and couldn't help grinning. Marian's skirt – now thoroughly soaked – clung to her legs and hips, outlining her shapely frame quite nicely. While the upper portion of his trousers remained relatively dry, they had become noticeably tighter in the last few minutes, thanks to his wife's vocal appreciation of his kisses.

Harold decided they were both overdressed.

"Darling?"

"Mmmm?" Marian murmured, opening her eyes to gaze at him.

Harold felt a shiver run through him when he saw the desire in his wife's eyes, and he ran a hand along her cheek. "I think we should get you out of those wet clothes."

Marian's mouth lifted in a seductive smile. "Oh really, Professor Hill?"

"Really," Harold affirmed. "What's more, I think you need to spend the next few hours in our warm bed. After all, we wouldn't want you catching a cold."

Marian reached up to unravel his bow tie. "I think that's an excellent idea, Professor." She glanced down. "But your pants are soaked, as well."

Harold met her challenging grin with a naughty one of his own. "So they are," he conceded. "What should we do about that, I wonder?"

Laughing softly, Marian sauntered to their staircase, her hips swaying back and forth. Harold watched, spellbound, as she slowly ascended the stairs. When she reached the top of the stairs, his wife turned back to him, her eyes traveling up and down his soggy form, before boldly settling on an area that was becoming more constricted with every passing moment.

When Marian arched an expectant eyebrow at him and tilted her head, Harold could only gawk, the gift of gab having suddenly deserted him.

Marian, for her part, merely laughed and crooked a finger, beckoning him to follow. "Don't dawdle, Professor Hill," she coyly teased. "As I recall, you have a promise to keep."

Harold felt his pulse begin to race and a hundred sly replies leapt to his tongue. But he silenced them all and instead bounded up the stairs determined to show Marian all the ways he intended on keeping his word.


	3. A Hot Bath and a Warm Bed

Although Harold had been eager to follow his wife upstairs and immediately set about making good on his earlier promises, he'd reluctantly acknowledged Marian's suggestion that a hot bath would probably do wonders for both of them. The librarian's light laughter and promise that they would resume their earlier conversation once they'd both cleaned up a bit helped lessen the sting, and so he graciously agreed and sighed wistfully as she made her way down the corridor and disappeared into their washroom.

He was more inclined to agree cheerfully when the door down the hall reopened and Marian peeped out at him, her bare leg visible through the open doorway, and slyly invited him to join her. Harold hadn't known he could move as fast as he did, but moments later, his clothes lay discarded on the chilly tiles of the washroom floor and his arms were wrapping around his wife's delicious curves as he sank into the washtub behind her.

"If this is how my baths had been as a youngster, I don't think I would've put up such a fight," Harold murmured before placing several soft kisses against Marian's neck while she leisurely ran a washcloth over her arms.

"Harold Hill!" Marian admonished in a scandalized voice.

The music professor merely chuckled and tightened his arms around his wife. "Say what you want, Madam Librarian, but you are a definite improvement to the bathing process."

He smiled as Marian tilted her head and gazed at him. "You're incorrigible, Professor Hill."

"And you smell wonderful, Mrs. Hill," he breathed, planting another kiss on her collarbone. "Lavender certainly becomes you." He reached forward and took the soapy cloth from his wife. "May I?"

Marian grew still in his arms, but rather than say anything to diffuse the suddenly tense moment, Harold remained silent. Last night had been an evening of firsts for the both of them, what with their behavior in the library, and Marian had chosen to continue that phenomenon with her sultry invitation for him to join her in the bath. Although Harold knew her forwardness stemmed from the previous evening's events, he wasn't noble enough to decline her request, even though he had a feeling she might have second thoughts once she realized just what'd she asked her music professor. And now, Harold knew it was all sinking in. Their passionate encounter in Madison Public Library. The teasing exchange downstairs in the hallway. His presence in her bath. All were perfectly acceptable liaisons between a husband and wife, but Harold knew Marian was still adjusting to certain ideas, and as such, tended to hold tightly to the Victorian sensibilities that had seen her responsibly navigate through many a charged moment before they had been married.

Deciding his wife might need a little encouragement to overcome those final reservations, Harold brought the warm cloth to the flat plane of her stomach and began to draw lazy circles, slowly working his way back and forth with gentle motions. Her soft sighs brought a smile to his face and she slowly relaxed in his arms, prompting Harold to continue his ministrations, tenderly stroking her smooth skin as he worked his way higher. When his hands found their way to the soft curves of her breasts, the cloth fluttered to the warm water below and Marian leaned back against his chest, her lips parting on a sigh as her hands rose to settle on his upper arms.

"Harold…" she whispered, her eyes drifting shut.

The music professor's smile turned smug as he brought his lips to his wife's ear. "Yes, my dear?"

But Marian didn't reply. Instead, she tilted her head to the side, as if in silent request. Harold was happy to comply, lowering his lips to her smooth skin and placing eager kisses there. His palms slid upward to cup his wife's soft breasts, and he began to tease her while his tongue traced gentle patterns on her neckline.

They stayed that way for quite some time, the silence of the room occasionally punctuated by the sound of Harold's wet kisses and Marian's low moans as Harold's warm hands glided back and forth across his wife's slick skin. But as Marian's moans grew louder, Harold felt himself begin to respond, as well. There was something wholly erotic about caressing a lover's naked body while submerged beneath water, and although this was their first shared bathing encounter, Harold made a mental note to ensure it wouldn't be the last. He was toying with the idea of suggesting this, when he felt Marian's hand cover his own and remove it from her breast.

Uncertain as to why Marian would put a halt to their delightful tryst, Harold was about to protest, but the words died in his throat when he felt Marian place his hand between her legs and then whisper his name in a pleading tone. Instinctively, Harold began to explore his wife's soft folds, even though he knew this wasn't the most ideal of settings for giving her such pleasure; nevertheless, Marian seemed to derive more than enough enjoyment from the gliding movements of his fingers. Her low moans made his body tighten, and when his thumb happened to circle a particularly sensitive area, and she lifted her hips in response to his caress, crying out his name, Harold felt his erection begin to throb.

Marian Paroo Hill might still carry the vestiges of her Victorian upbringing, but when she surrendered to passion, she did so wholeheartedly. Harold had learned that lesson shortly into their honeymoon. And he was just as pleased with that discovery now as he was then.

Nibbling his way back to her collarbone, Harold sank his teeth into the soft skin there and smiled when Marian gasped and reached for his hand again, this time maneuvering it until his fingers were flush against her entrance beneath the water's surface. He grinned when his wife began to wiggle against him, and Marian moaned when her movements caused one of his fingers to slowly work its way inside her; however, Harold, too well-versed in the ways of the world to let things go any further than they already had, gently removed his hand.

"Darling," he murmured, "not here. Not like this. Water isn't the most satisfying. Trust me," he assured her when she glanced questioningly at him. Placing his hands along the sides of the tub, Harold pushed himself up and carefully extracted his lean form from their embrace before extending his hand to Marian to help her out of the tub along with him. When they were both safely standing on the tile floor, Harold started to reach for a nearby towel, but paused in his motion as his gaze fully settled on his alluring wife. Although the majority of her hair was still piled atop her head in her usual chignon, a few strands had escaped and now charmingly framed Marian's face. While her hair remained untouched by bathwater, the rest of her was glistening in the lamp light; water droplets cascaded down his wife's body, pooling into rivulets at her feet. Harold stared, mesmerized. He had the maddening desire to run his tongue along the curve of her hip and remove the droplets of water that had settled there, and it took him a moment before he realized he could do just that.

Lowering himself to the now-wet tiles, Harold leaned forward and began kissing his way across her stomach. Like an avid explorer, he faithfully followed the trail lower and was soon rewarded with a throaty sigh when his tongue languidly grazed the slickness between his wife's legs. His hands slid up along the back of her thighs and grasped her backside as his mouth eagerly explored the wetness that had nothing to do with the water in which they had just been lying. He felt Marian's fingers slide through his disheveled hair, and then she was tugging him toward her. Drawing her close, Harold increased the tempo of his teasing, allowing his tongue to dart in and out of her before fully covering her with his mouth. Marian was writhing against him now, and Harold reveled in the sensation of her most intimate areas pressed against his lips as her pleading moans echoed against the walls.

It was not the first time Harold had made love to Marian this way, but their explorations in this arena had been limited and never pursued when Marian was upright and straddling him. To be honest, Harold found the novelty of it rather thrilling. And judging from the delighted sounds emanating above him, so did his wife. If he wasn't careful, he might bring her to climax before they made it to their bedroom.

The music professor had to admit the idea was an intriguing one, as evidenced by the constant twitching from below his waist. But if he was entirely honest with himself, he knew it was a bit too sordid for his librarian wife's sensibilities. At least, it was right now. Perhaps as they explored more avenues of lovemaking, it might be something they could pursue, but considering he had only just recently introduced her to this particular kind of lovemaking, Harold thought it best to wait. Reluctantly pulling away, he stood and took his wife by the hand, disregarding the nearby towels. He couldn't wait any longer. He needed to make love to Marian. If they got the sheets wet, so be it.

XXX

Normally, Harold prided himself on his ability to draw out the moment until the room was practically humming with excitement. But tonight, he found that he had possessed no such restraint. Marian's gasp of surprise echoed in the room when he swept her into his arms, but then his mouth was covering hers and she was eagerly responding to his kiss as Harold navigated his way down the hall and to their bedroom.

A sensible man would have pulled back the thick comforter and placed his wife on the smooth sheets below, but Harold had abandoned such rational thought the moment he'd slid down into the warm water behind Marian.

The librarian gasped when her body came into contact with the cool material, and Harold smiled in return. "Cold?"

"A little," she giggled.

"I think I can help with that," he grinned and lowered his body across hers, delighting in the feel of her damp skin. Harold's excitement increased even more when Marian moved beneath him and spread her legs until his hardness was insistently pressing against her. His eyes slid shut and he had to bite his lower lip to stifle a groan. He wasn't sure when his wife had learned that little trick, but he certainly wasn't going to complain about it.

"My God, Marian," he gasped and opened his eyes to gaze at her smug expression. Harold saw his wife's lips contort into a frown of disapproval, but before she could say anything, he pressed forward until, at last, he was inside her. All thoughts of protesting clearly obliterated, Marian smiled once more, and her eyes fluttered shut as he began to move in and out of her, adopting a slow and unhurried tempo.

When Harold lowered his head and traced his mouth along the librarian's breast, her hands found their way to his hair and began to wreak havoc on his curls. He groaned and began gently nipping at the sensitive flesh beneath his lips. Ridiculously pleased to hear the cries of delight this elicited, the music professor made a note to incorporate this more often in their lovemaking.

Marian had certainly come a long way since their first evening together in Des Moines only a few weeks ago. That night, she'd been shy and uncertain. Tonight, she showed no such hesitancy. Indeed, as Harold began to increase his pace, she arched her back and met her hips to his, her breathless moans and throaty cries urging him on.

Harold didn't know how much longer he could last at this pace. After bringing things to a halt last night, he had spent the remainder of the evening in a state of perpetual arousal as he repeatedly imagined Marian atop him, hands splayed across his chest, hair cascading across her bare shoulders as she drove the pace of their lovemaking. That particular position was something they'd not yet attempted in their fledgling marriage, but it was an idea that set his pulse racing. Harold had refrained from introducing Marian to anything other than traditional lovemaking, thinking it best they explore things slowly lest he shock his inexperienced wife. But if her actions in the library last night and their bathtub and bedroom tonight were any indication, his darling wife was indeed ready to try something new, and Harold was eager to oblige her.

Fervently hoping he hadn't misread the situation, the music professor swiftly rolled them over, until Marian sat precariously atop him. His wife's startled eyes met his, but Harold merely grinned and positioned her so that she straddled his thighs, albeit a bit awkwardly.

"Harold…" she began, but then trailed off. She glanced down and then quickly looked away, a dark blush suffusing her cheeks. When her eyes found his again, Harold could see the uncertainty there… but he could also see her excitement.

"Trust me, Marian?" he whispered, running a hand along her bare thigh.

She nodded, but didn't meet his eyes. Hoping his wife merely needed a little encouragement, Harold fitted his hands firmly on her hips and began to slowly thrust upward, his eyes sliding shut as he felt Marian close around him again. He experimented a few times with this new motion before opening his eyes to gauge Marian's reaction.

She was watching him with half-lidded eyes, her mouth open on a silent gasp of pleasure as he slid inside her once more. When he thrust a bit harder than before, Marian's eyes momentarily widened before a new awareness began to slowly dawn in them. Biting her lower lips, she gazed at him nervously and then gave an experimental wiggle. Harold responded with a low moan and tightened his grip on her hips.

"Does that feel… good?" she whispered shyly, her cheeks crimsoning as she looked away from him.

Harold couldn't find his voice. Instead, he simply nodded and lifted his hips again. When Marian responded with another wiggle, he groaned again and slid a hand down to gently caress his wife's slick skin. Apparently, this was all the encouragement his little librarian needed, because without further ado, she began to move against him, experimenting with her movements until she found a pace that satisfied the both of them. Soon, they were both gasping with pleasure, and Harold stared, mesmerized as his wife set the tone of their lovemaking for the first time. Before their marriage, he'd spent many a night in this bed fantasizing about this very thing: watching Marian astride him, her head thrown back and lips opening and closing around little gasps of ecstasy; his hands covering her soft breasts, his lips whispering heated desires as she discovered another facet of their passion; feeling her contract around him as she found release. All had helped him find his own much-needed release, but nothing in his wildest fantasies could begin to compare to the reality of seeing her above him tonight.

Indeed, when Marian finally let out a wordless moan and began to shudder, her hands clenching around his thighs, Harold thought he might lose his mind. Abandoning any pretense of control, he grasped Marian's hips and thrust into her at a fiercely ardent pace as she contracted around him until, suddenly, he felt his own release overtake him. Groaning in sheer pleasure, Harold pressed into her one final time as his climax concluded, satisfaction washing over him in waves as Marian's blonde curls, now free from their exertions, tumbled across his chest when she buried her face in the crook of his neck and softly cooed his name. Her fingers absently stroked his damp skin, and Harold reveled in the sensation of her heart thudding against his chest. Wanting to prolong the moment, he tenderly ran his palm along his wife's spine, caressing her with languid strokes until Marian's breathing evened, and she lifted her head to gaze at him in dazed wonder.

Harold responded with a cheeky smile and leaned forward to capture her mouth in a slow kiss. When they finally parted, he gently rolled over until she was positioned alongside him. Wrapping his leg over hers, he pulled her close, reveling in the feel of her skin against his.

"I love you, Marian Paroo Hill," he whispered and ran a finger along her cheek.

Marian beamed at him and placed a soft kiss against his lips. "I love you, too, Harold."

They stayed blissfully ensconced in one another's embrace for several minutes afterward, hands gently caressing and exploring each other until Harold eventually leaned back and ruefully glanced at the clock.

"As much as I hate to say it, we should probably see to getting dressed. Even though I'm cancelling rehearsal this afternoon, I do have several things I need to attend to at the Emporium today."

In response, Marian gave him a seductive smile and reached down. Harold felt his heart skip a beat when her warm hand began to caress him as boldly as his fingers had teased her in the bathtub earlier.

"Why, Marian!" Harold exclaimed in surprised delight.

Marian let out a throaty laugh and nestled closer to him. "Perhaps the Emporium business can wait until tomorrow, Professor Hill? After all, the streets are still covered with several feet of snow, and it wouldn't do for you to catch a cold…"

Never a man to argue with a beautiful woman, especially when that woman happened to be his charming wife, Harold merely nodded in wordless acquiescence and lowered his hand to return the favor. As his mouth met hers in an ardent kiss and he once again reveled in the beguiling warmth of her body against his, Harold reflected that Marian was right. The Emporium could definitely wait until tomorrow.


End file.
